


A Good Burn

by ghermez



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Riding, There's an injury but it's minimal!!!!, Top Hinata Shouyou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghermez/pseuds/ghermez
Summary: “Omi-san, I don’t think I could ever hate anything about you.”Sakusa blinks his eyes open, sees the burn in Shouyou’s eyes. Even in the dimness of their room, in the quiet that surrounds them. Shouyou’s words are thick with confidence and his authority slides like magma across Sakusa’s skin, lighting him up, inside out, purifying and stinging. But it’s a good burn. It is akin to being in the sun after a long time in the shade.-Hinata collides with Bokuto's body and gets injured mildly, but it triggers Hinata's frustration with his body, so Sakusa does his best to show him that his body satisfieshim.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 291





	A Good Burn

The crack of one body meeting another hardened body silences the gym. At first, no one blinks because the sounds of muscle and sinew thudding to the floor has become far too familiar to their ears, but what draws them short is the lack of shuffling to follow. The fact that this specific person doesn’t fall often. This bird isn’t supposed to hit the floor. But he falls now. 

Sakusa looks up from where he’s been filing his nails, and his heart plummets to his stomach. 

There, on the floor by the net, is Shouyou’s body. Crumbled and looking far smaller than it should—Shouyou has long ago gained a statuesque physique, honed from rigid exercise and thoughtful meal planning. 

Yet he looks small enough to fit in the palm of Sakusa’s hand. He drops the nail filer and rushes to his feet, joining the slow gathering of athletes in the heart of the court. But the forming circle disperses before it can close around the fallen comrade. Shouyou is getting on his knees, clutching his jaw, looking so furious that a shudder runs through Sakusa. He’s never seen Shouyou look this angry before, with frustration drawing his skin taut over his cheekbones, his lower lip bitten between his teeth, his free fist clenched so hard that his knuckles go white. 

“What happened?” asks Inuaki.

“Bokuto and Hinata slammed into one another by accident,” explains Tomas. “It happened so quickly.”

“Yer okay, Shouyou?” asks Miya.

“‘M fine,” Shouyou replies, yet the thunderous rumble of his voice tells Sakusa otherwise. He’s far from fine. Still, Miya takes Shouyou’s word and resumes his position. Bokuto looks less inclined to walk away so quickly, but he’s given a look from their captain. Meian’s frown is so fierce it threatens to cut a permanent line between his eyebrows.

Sakusa, however, refuses to take his eyes off Shouyou. He scans Shouyou’s body, wishing his eyes developed x-ray abilities right then and there. _Let him be okay_ , he thinks, but Shouyou makes quick work of following the team manager.

“Let’s get that checked out, yeah?” she murmurs, and Hinata nods.

Sakusa follows the two bodies with his eyes. He’ll perform his own check on Shouyou later.

* * *

“It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt,” Shouyou says, but Sakusa continues to look over Shouyou’s forehead, feathering a touch over the swelling there. “Seriously,” Shouyou murmurs, his breath hot across Sakusa’s neck.

He doesn’t move away, doesn’t stop touching Shouyou. His heart hasn’t gotten the memo that Shouyou is fine, it refuses to settle in his ribcage, instead he feels his heartbeat in his ear, at the back of his throat, turning his voice thick with emotion. “‘Mmm,” he mumbles, unsure what to say.

They’re back in their room. Shouyou has been told to rest up for a couple of days and monitor his state. Sakusa felt no remorse in the way he skipped out on their post-practice run and rushed to the MSBY dorms. He needed to see Shouyou.

Even now, sitting on the lower bunk, Sakusa’s bed, his hands cupping Shouyou’s face and his lips trembling to kiss away his pain, he’s shaking with worry. 

“Omi-san,” Shouyou murmurs, and Sakusa’s body sags. “I’m okay.” 

Lie. 

He has no way of explaining how he knows this but he knows it. Shouyou is lying.

“I’m not lying,” Shouyou huffs, reading right through Sakusa’s frown.

“And Miya is a competent server.”

Shouyou cracks a smile. “Meanie.” Then, turning his head to the side, gently kisses the hand Sakusa has on his cheek, and adds, “I’ll be okay as long as you’re here.”

Sakusa’s heart forgets to beat normally. A short huff leaves his lips, then, leaning forward, Sakusa rests his forehead against Shouyou’s collarbones, hands sliding down Shouyou’s head to his strong neck, his broad shoulders, mapping out the stiff tendons, turning his hands over to run his knuckles down Shouyou’s arms. 

Shouyou’s sigh is soft, barely perceptible, but there. 

“Tell me,” Sakusa says, and he can’t raise his head to look at Shouyou. He still hasn’t learned how to face his feelings, and today has managed to rattle him. 

“It’s just—” Shouyou cuts himself off and groans. “I grow sick of my body sometimes. That no matter how much I train, I don't bulk up like Bokuto-san. Or even like Atsumu-san. Or… like you.”

Sakusa peers up from where he has built himself a nest in Shouyou’s chest. He finds Shouyou looking away, cheeks tinted. He lifts a hand, touches the back of his fingers to Shouyou’s cheeks.

“Are you feverish?”

Shouyou laughs. “No. I’m just—embarrassed, I guess. I’m twenty-four and I'm still jealous of the big guys. The tall guys. I thought—I thought by now, I wouldn’t feel this way. Wouldn’t be the weaker one.” Then, looking down at Sakusa, he laughs. “Don’t look so confused. You guys are huge. Like, you and Ushijima-san are on a whole new level.”

Sakusa doesn’t think of his body in that capacity; he doesn't see the heft of it as an advantage. Sometimes, he wants to throw himself into the air, float like a feather and strike with strength that wouldn’t slow him down. He doesn’t say this; knows somehow that his own grievances wouldn’t console Shouyou. It would be like rubbing salt into his wound. Instead, Sakusa makes himself smaller, gathers his legs and tries to fit himself between Shouyou’s arms.

Shouyou’s smile is apparent in his voice when he says, “Oh-ho, Omi-san, you’re in a cute mood tonight.”

Another aspect of himself that Sakusa couldn’t understand. How does Shouyou look at him and think of him as _cute_? _You should see yourself in a mirror_ , he thinks, then wraps his arms around Shouyou’s neck. “Am I? Cute?” he pushes the words out through the embarrassment niggling itself under his skin.

Shouyou’s eyes widen then his grin is there, on his lips, in his eyes, bright and familiar—Sakusa’s body relaxes. He’s needed this smile since he’d heard that disgusting thud. Shouyou relaxes back, head falling onto Sakusa’s pillow—anyone else’s head on his pillow might have turned Sakusa’s stomach; might have made him want to snap and demand they got off his bed; but this is Shouyou, whose scent of sunscreen and apples has embedded itself into his system. 

So Sakusa scoots closer and splays himself across Shouyou’s body. Completely disregards the fact that he weighs a solid ten kilograms over Shouyou. As long as Shouyou is content, smiling peacefully, then Sakusa is staying right where he is. 

“For what it’s worth,” Sakusa begins, words clustered in his mind, but he does his best to push them out in an orderly fashion. “I think your body is...good.”

Shouyou blinks at him, then laughs, the vibrations traveling through Sakusa’s cheek where he’s got it rested across Shouyou’s chest. It’s comforting. Still, he gently bites Shouyou’s chest, smiling privately when Shouyou bucks against him.

“Omi-san, you’re too much.”

Sakusa lifts his head, rests his chin on top of the hands he’s got clasped on Shouyou’s pecs. “How so?”

Shouyou’s hand is hot as it runs through Sakusa’s hair, his nails might be blunt but the scratch against the base of his neck still makes Sakusa arch his body, a moan building in his chest. His eyes flutter shut, but he opens them halfway, watches Shouyou watching him.

“You’re so sweet and...you’re like a cat asking for scratches behind its ear,” Shouyou murmurs, his hand slow and his nails dragging languid lines into Sakusa’s skin. Sakusa lets his voice out, sighs and rubs himself, stiff and hot, all over Shouyou’s thigh. He’s quite possibly rutting, too, but he doesn’t care. He likes Shouyou’s attention, the way Shouyou’s voice dips so low it comes out as a rumble, so private and only for Sakusa’s ears. 

“Do you hate it?” Sakusa asks, the question is too needy in nature; he wishes he could suck it back into his mouth, into his head where such festering sentiments exist without marring Shouyou’s face with a frown.

Because now he’s looking at Sakusa as if he wants to dig into his mind and excavate for every bad thought Sakusa has let himself think, let himself believe. “Omi-san, I don’t think I could ever hate anything about you.”

Sakusa blinks his eyes open, sees the burn in Shouyou’s eyes. Even in the dimness of their room, in the quiet that surrounds them. Shouyou’s words are thick with confidence, and his authority slides like magma across Sakusa’s skin, lighting him up, inside out, purifying and stinging. But it’s a good burn. It is akin to being in the sun after a long time underground. It unearths him. 

“Then…” Sakusa slowly slides his body along Shouyou’s body, skin overheating from their close contact, heart throbbing in his throat, behind his eyes, in the palm of his hands as he sneaks it under Shouyou’s T-shirt. “Indulge me.” 

Shouyou’s smile turns rueful. “I’m not sure that will be possible today, what with my recklessness. I’m sorry, Omi-san.” Shouyou rubs a thumb along Sakusa’s lower lip, further melting Sakusa’s body.

“You weren’t reckless,” Sakusa says instead because focusing on this distracts from how his hips have begun rocking against Shouyou’s thigh, impatiently seeking out friction.

“Yet I put myself in danger, thinking I could compete with Bokuto-san’s strength.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sakusa murmurs, mouth pressing against Shouyou’s neck as he speaks.

“Yes,” Shouyou bites out, fist tightening in the back of Sakusa’s shirt. The fabric rubs against his nipples and Sakusa bites his lower lip to keep from voicing out just how much he likes it. “It’s my fault. I can’t make this body strong enough to obey me. I am still not free enough to move whichever way I like.”

The words are spat out like venom, but Sakusa sees the hurt lingering under every syllable, and he’s helpless to do anything but want to suck the poison out with his mouth. He looms over Shouyou, knees barely holding him up, cock heavy between his legs, but he keeps himself there, looking down at the fire simmering in Shouyou’s amber eyes. “Shouyou,” he breathes, lowers himself just enough to glide his hardness across Shouyou’s stomach. He watches Shouyou’s eyes widen, smiles when Shouyou fists hands in his shirt, holding him close, breathing going a little shallower with every passing second. “Fuck me.”

“What?” 

“Let me show you how strong you are. How...free you can be,” he explains, then licks the long column of Shouyou’s neck, shuddering when Shouyou’s hands grab his hips.

“Shit—Omi-san—” The words are bitten off when their lips meet, a kiss bruising enough to hurt, that turns tender swiftly. 

Sakusa leans back and says, his voice sounding a little too needy to his ears, “Stick your tongue out, Shouyou.”

And when Shouyou does, Sakusa wraps his lips around it, sucks like he might suck Shouyou’s cock. The hands on Sakusa’s hips turn punishing, pushing into the meat of his ass, leaving bruises on his fair skin. His cock grows harder, pleased to be a canvas for Shouyou’s needs. 

“Take my clothes off,” Sakusa sighs, and Shouyou obeys, further evidence that Shouyou’s body has no issue following instruction.

Each button is carefully released, revealing Sakusa’s undershirt, and before removing that, Shouyou brushes feather-light knuckles up and down Sakusa’s arms. “You’re so big, Omi-san.”

Sakusa pushes his cock against Shouyou’s stomach, shows Shouyou how much he likes the praise, then huffs and says, “Strip me, Shouyou. I want you to see me.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. Shouyou makes quick work of Sakusa’s undershirt, then begins unbuttoning his trousers. Sakusa regrets ever putting on an outfit with this many buttons. When that, too, is pushed down his thighs, forcing Sakusa to lift himself off Shouyou’s body, he’s left in his grey boxers with a darkening spot where his cock pushes against the cotton, embarrassingly revealing just how eager he is to have Shouyou’s hands on him.

“Look at you,” Shouyou murmurs, kisses the seam of Sakusa’s lips, tucking a stray curl behind Sakusa’s ear and sliding his hand inside Sakusa’s boxers.

“Shit,” Sakusa bites when Shouyou’s hand pulls him out, gripping him at the base, then tugs at his length until he’s rocking with every stroke, arms straining to keep himself over Shouyou. He doesn’t pay any mind to the sweat gathering on his forehead, his neck, and dripping off his chin. Until a fat drop plops on Shouyou’s cheek, and Sakusa strains at the seams then breaks all together. He sinks his body into Shouyou’s smaller one, rutting into Shouyou’s fist, hips moving erratically, his lips bitten raw, until Shouyou grabs his wrist and soothes him over with small pecks on his cheeks, then his neck, licking and biting, wrist twisting, changing speed to something languid and horrible. Something that makes Sakusa choke back a sob, and his knees buckle.

“Shouyou—” he chokes out. “Please.” It is ripped out of him, brutally honest. 

Yet Shouyou keeps his pace, thumbing at Sakusa’s slit, rubbing his precum over his head, his mouth equally punishing and teasing, kissing the thin skin behind Sakusa’s ear, murmuring, “So sweet, Omi-san. Makes me want to devour you.”

The noise ripping from Sakusa’s mouth might have appalled him if he possesses any semblance of shame. Instead, he wants to embrace this vicious unmaking. Let Shouyou disassemble all his pride and honor, fashion him into whatever shape Shouyou likes best. 

“Omi-san,” Shouyou says. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Sakusa is helpless to Shouyou’s requests.

His vision has gone all hazy, however, and he has to blink against the sweat burning his eyes. He wipes it away, but it only exasperates the sting, so he grabs his discarded shirt to dry some of the sweat. Shouyou stops him. “Don’t. I like you like this.”

“But… It’s getting on you.” Shouyou gives him a long, tight tug and Sakusa’s breath stutters, and he bites the inside of his lip to keep in the sharp cry reverberating through him. 

“It’s okay, Omi-san. I like it. I like seeing you undone like this,” Shouyou says, his hand moving faster now, giving Sakusa the sharp pleasure he needs, his spine tingling, his body shaking with the force of his oncoming orgasm. Shouyou disregards Sakusa’s warning, smiles and says, “Come on me, Kiyoomi, I want you to.”

He’s truly helpless to Shouyou’s requests. Especially when they’re of the filthy quality.

The release of the pressure makes jelly out of his joints, knees fail him tremendously, and his arms flail then he flops on top of Shouyou, but his lover, his Shouyou, holds him, his sticky hand stretched out and away because even in his current state, he cares for Sakusa. 

He’s too spent to move a muscle, but he notices a disparity. Shouyou is still dressed. It’s a crime, truly.

So, sleepy and tired, Sakusa still has enough strength to peel Shouyou’s T-shirt over his head, then kneel to take off his shorts. “Omi-san,” Shouyou murmurs, clean fingers threading through his hair, and he nuzzles into Shouyou’s palm. 

Finally, they’re skin on skin, and the contact sends waves of relief through Sakusa. He is intent on tasting Shouyou’s rigid cock, but Shouyou stops him. “Omi-san, come here, please.” He’s sitting back, resting against the wall, Sakusa’s pillow behind his head. 

So polite, so lovely, so demanding. Sakusa climbs up until his ass is slotted in Shouyou’s lap. But it’s not enough. Shouyou grabs him by the hips and pulls him closer. Sakusa’s breath punches out of him when his sensitive cock rubs against Shouyou’s stomach. His heart perks when Shouyou’s hand, now cleaned with wet wipes from Sakusa’s stash under the bed, swipes along his brow, smooths back his hair, rubs circles in his shoulders. 

Sakusa sighs and squirms when Shouyou’s other hand, wet with lube and warmed with his body temperature, slides along the cleft of his ass, spreads him open and slides along his hole. The itch is sweet and agonizing at once, and he wants Shouyou to play with him. He wants the talent of those fingers dancing along his nerves. 

Shouyou teases his twitching hole with precise rubs along the rim, then dips into him, his finger stubby and thick, deep, right where he needs to be scratched. Shouyou drips more lube on Sakusa, makes a mess of his ass, but Sakusa simply sighs and kisses the underside of Shouyou’s chin.

“Can I put another in?” Shouyou asks, kissing Sakusa’s temple, then takes Sakusa’s earlobe into his mouth for a long suck and a stinging bite.

Sakusa hums, then says, “Do whatever you want with me.” He doesn’t care anymore. He simply yearns. 

Shouyou obliges, fucks two fingers into Sakusa, filling him to the third knuckle, until Sakusa is helpless to do anything beside rutting against Shouyou’s belly and leaving kisses along his beautiful face. 

It’s a sweet burn, then it’s agonizing as Shouyou skirts close enough but not quite where Sakusa needs it. He does it often enough that Sakusa knows he’s doing it on purpose, trying to undo every string holding Sakusa together. Except Sakusa doubts he's got much control left in him. He is made of adoration. But he opens his mouth and, full of hope that words will be enough to convince Shouyou to give him what he wants, says, “Shouyou, please, I can’t take it. Fuck me.”

Once upon a time, Sakusa might have recoiled from the sound of his own blatant need, the urgency in them, the plea. Except they are magical words, turning Shouyou, ever playful, and ever darling, into a creature fueled, ready, charging. Sakusa knows there are no Gods to pray to, so he thanks the one in his bed, pleasuring him with his mouth, fingers, and eyes. He lowers his head onto Shouyou’s collarbones and listens to the roar of Shouyou’s heartbeat, its drumming matching his own heart. The crinkle gives him pause.

“Are you… Not…” he trails off, looks down at their positions, aware of how he towers over Shouyou. He isn’t some petite thing Shouyou can manhandle, toss over his shoulder and manipulate. Instead, he’s as stiff as a board and as appealing. He's expected Shouyou to push him down onto his back. “I’m too heavy.”

“Hey, hey.” Shouyou’s finger cocks Sakusa’s chin up, their eyes meeting. “Have you forgotten?” Shouyou nips Sakusa’s lip, tugs it into his mouth to kiss and soothe. “I’m strong enough to fuck you like this.”

Like ice cream left out in the sun, Sakusa melts. He rests his chin on Shouyou’s shoulder, bracing his knees, as Shouyou slots his cock along his ass. And thus they begin to move together. Sakusa bearing down, relaxing his body, taking in Shouyou’s rigid cock. It feels like a blessing. A gift. He opens his mouth and sighs. 

He knows this ache, this burn, this stretch. He has it memorized, tattooed into his nerves. It has become as familiar as Shouyou’s tongue against his skin, his fingers in his hair, his eyes on him. 

The slick squelch of Sakusa’s rise and fall, the tight grip on his hips, the bruises forming along his thighs, the slap of his ass on Shouyou’s thighs, it all forms a harmony.

Then there’s Shouyou’s sweet murmurings, his “Omi-san, you’re so pretty,” and “It feels so good, Omi-san. _You_ feel so good.” Patting his back and kissing his neck, licking and nipping Sakusa’s nipples even when Sakusa twists away, crying out at how sensitive they are. But Shouyou is selfish, and it’s that selfishness that makes Sakusa tighten and pant, dropping low, grinding his hips until the sharp ache spreads over his nerves, biting and brutal, but he loves it.

“Shou—” he pants, “Shouyou,” sighs out, then cries when Shouyou wraps a hand around his cock. His hold is punishing. _He_ is unforgiving, pleasuring Sakusa on both ends, thrusting his hips in that precise angle. Sakusa watches Shouyou watching him as he pulls his strings, unfastens every tie, releases Sakusa from arbitrary rules he’s set for himself. 

Shouyou liberates him, and he’s helpless to do much besides surrendering, coming on their stomachs in long hot spurts, his voice choked where it catches in his throat, his words, “I love—” repeating like a broken record. “I love. I love. I love. I love.”

And for every unfinished sentence, Shouyou finishes with a mantra of his own, “Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi.”

The space meagre in the single bed, Shouyou wraps Sakusa up in his arms, presses closedmouth kisses along his neck, arms loose over his hips. He’d wiped down Sakusa’s body with such care that it lulled him into a state of dreamy satisfaction. He is too relaxed to move a single finger, so he hums and preens at Shouyou’s attention. Sleep glides along his eyes, turns them heavy, but there is one thing he needs to do. 

It’s really too tight a fit for both of them, Sakusa is big everywhere and Hinata is broad in the shoulders and hips. But he manages. He tucks his head under Shouyou’s chin, and asks, “Are you free?”

Shouyou’s finger tilts Sakusa’s head back, eyes too shadowed for Sakusa to read. “As a bird.”

He grins. “A crow?”

Shouyou chuckles, “Really, Omi-san.”

The change to _Omi-san_ shouldn’t stab so sharply. He hardly cares what Shouyou calls him, as long as he calls out to him. 

Yet. He possesses an irrational heart, a heart that has long forgotten reason, a heart that embraces selfishness.

“Kiyoomi,” Sakusa says, lips brushing Shouyou’s mouth. Then again. He kisses the _kiyo_ into Shouyou’s cheek. Licks the _o_ in his neck. Then bites the _mi_ in the spot right next to Shouyou’s heart. There. He’s now left his name all over Shouyou’s body. It is a strong, capable body. Free from restraint. But not from him.

“Kiyoomi,” Shouyou says, the smile on his lips small, private, just for Sakusa. “I’m tethered to you.”

“And I,” Sakusa whispers, face burning but heart strong and proud, “to you.”

* * *

Hinata Shouyou soars. He flies. So beautifully that everyone in the arena forgets to breathe, then they gasp as he lands, unruffled by the inhumane feat he’d just pulled off. Sakusa doesn’t need to look closely at Shouyou to know that there is a grin on that handsome face, the face he has kissed day and night, between practice and during celebratory hugs. 

He does, however, listen to the cheers, the _“Shouyou! Shouyou! Shouyou!”_ The applause, above all, is Sakusa’s favorite sound. Second only to Shouyou’s worshiping “ _I love you, Kiyoomi_ ” and his “ _You’re the cutest, Omi-san_.” Sakusa feels his cheeks growing ruddy with the memory but most people write it off to the extraneous sport he plays, unaware to how he presses a finger to his hip, relishes the bruise there, formed by a set of teeth, a bite received just minutes before the game, hidden behind Sakusa’s dri-fit undershirt. It is for him alone. 

“Look at him, without a single care,” Miya says, a jealous smile on his face.

“You’re wrong,” Sakusa says, and he seems to have startled Miya into speechlessness. An impossible feat since Miya is a chatterbox. “Shouyou works as hard as everyone. His flight is a sign that no matter what difficulty he faces, he’ll overcome it with his strength.”

Next to Sakusa, Ushijima nods, the red of his uniform turning his stern expression handsome. Sakusa gives him a nod in response, and notices Miya watching them with parted lips.

“When did you two become such Shouyou fans?”

Ushijima answers, “Since he sprouted from the concrete and proved that nature and nurture are arbitrary when one possessed the tenacity and hunger to defeat anyone in their path.”

Sakusa wouldn’t have worded it any better, so he nods, takes a long gulp of his water then says, “What Ushijima-san said.”

“Gah! One of you was enough.”

The cheer blissfully distracts from Miya’s complaining, and on the court, Shouyou has received a vicious strike meant to score a set match. Sakusa’s fist clenches by his side, relishing in the way Shouyou’s body moves like a song, without a hitch, utterly in control. He moves from one position to the other, knees not even touching the floor, eyes calculating as he sees right through the Argentenian players’ movements. He terrifies them. Sakusa knows this because it doesn’t take being on the other side of the net to see the beast residing in Shouyou’s heart. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a giveaway prize for [fluffyships](https://twitter.com/fluffyships). Thank you so much for requesting omihina because I've wanted to write it for the longest time. 
> 
> Talk to me on [@kuroosauce](https://twitter.com/kuroosauce) about top hinata?


End file.
